


Daniel's top five sexual fantasies

by SEF



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: 5 Things, Childhood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-11
Updated: 2010-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEF/pseuds/SEF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought of these more as recurring dreams than directed fantasies.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Daniel's top five sexual fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of these more as recurring dreams than directed fantasies.

**1\. First Kiss  
**  
He’s five or six, and his parents have dressed him in his best clothes. They’re going to the Mena House Hotel in Cairo to meet with the all-important Egyptian official who oversees their work. The approval of the Antiquities Authority is even more crucial than grant money. 

Daniel is excited. His mother has told him that if he sits quietly in the library he might hear a language he has never heard before. He is permitted to look at any of the books as long as his hands are clean. He doesn’t need that caution at his age.

He appropriates one corner of a Chesterfield sofa, peruses a book about Persian king Darius, and discreetly listens in on the conversation of two Frenchmen on the other side of the room. It’s just boring talk about a business deal.

The double doors to the library open, and a little girl walks in. She’s beautiful, with huge eyes and long dark curls. 

Daniel stands. “Sabah el-kheir,” he greets her in Arabic. 

“Sabah en-noor,” she responds shyly. 

“Can I reach a book for you?” He’s no taller than she.

She shakes her head. 

“Would you like to look at this one with me?”

She smiles. They sit on the sofa, and Daniel tells her everything he has learned about Darius so far. He adds that he would like to learn Persian, but he doesn’t know any native speakers.

“You speak Arabic very well,” she says. 

“I was born here,” Daniel says. He remembers he should have introduced himself. “I’m Daniel.”

“I’m Halima.”

He doesn’t shake her hand because he doesn’t know how observant she is, and he forgets what the rules are for children. “Do you like hieroglyphs?” 

“Oh, yes. I’m learning how to read them.”

“Me, too! Let’s see if we can find some to read.” 

They both prowl the lower shelves until Halima squeals in excitement. She’s found a large, full-color book with many photos of Luxor. 

The book is a little too heavy for either of them to handle easily, and the library table wasn’t proportioned for small children. Instead, they settle on the carpet beneath the table, the book propped up before them as they lounge comfortably. 

They page through the book and take turns reading the pictures. Halima likes to run her fingers under the glyphs, but she never actually touches the page, Daniel notes approvingly. 

She notices his smile, and smiles back. Her finger moves from the page to his face, still not touching. She circles his eyes, traces the line of his mouth. “I like you,” she says. 

He bites his lip. “I like you, too.” 

She leans closer and touches her lips to his. He is thrilled, tingling, warm all over. 

“Danny!” His father calls from the doorway. He can’t possibly see anything more than Daniel’s feet. 

Daniel kisses Halima back. “Goodbye, Daniel,” she says softly. “Peace be with you.”

  
**2\. Cry Me a River  
**  
Late one night, after finishing a particularly thorny translation, he wanders the nearly empty corridors of the SGC. He stops in the debriefing room for coffee and stares down at the stargate. 

He notices that the inner ring has started to revolve—slowly and in complete silence. He dashes to the control room, but there is no gate technician on duty. So he hurries down the stairs and into the gate room as the wormhole whooshes open. 

Someone is calling to him from the other side of the gate. He puts down the coffee cup that is still clasped in one hand and walks up the ramp. When he touches the event horizon, it feels warm. He takes a deep breath and steps in. 

The trip is like floating up into the sunlight from the bottom of a shallow sea. He emerges into a bright world where the grass, the flowers, and even the leaves of the trees are a vibrant fuchsia pink. The air is scented with jasmine.

A soft hand touches his cheek. “I have been waiting for you, husband.” 

Sha’uri is in his arms. He kisses her loudly, delightedly, sloppily. He kisses her hair, her eyes, her mouth, her neck. Sha’uri lifts her arms, and her robes fall away. Laughing, they fall onto the iridescent grass. They are both naked.

His wife grasps him by the root and settles atop him. He rolls so that they are side by side, her face so dear, so close. They kiss again, and he touches every portion of her that he can reach, checking for injury. “Dan’yel,” she murmurs, as his fingers thread through her hair, stroke her neck, and glide across her back and shoulders. He pats along her hip and pulls her leg higher, up and over his, stroking beneath her thigh and reaching to caress her knee. “Dan’yel,” she assures him. “I am free. I am well.”

Tears of joy spring to his eyes. He surges into her with frantic eagerness. Her leg tightens around his. “The night is like the Nile,” she reminds him. Nights on Abydos are long and languorous. They are home. There is time. 

He slows to a pace more like that of the great river as it rolls toward the Mediterranean. Sha’uri’s eyes half-close and her arms circle him, cradling and cocooning him, even though she is so small. He closes his eyes and listens to her soft sighs, breathes her breath, memorizes the texture of her skin. As they rock, the long grass weaves itself around them. Warm, salty water lifts their little boat and carries it away. Undisturbed, they enjoy the night and, in the morning, they alight on a crescent of golden sand, where all their friends and family run to greet them.

  
**3\. Eight Miles High  
**  
It’s 1969, and SG-1 is traveling a lonesome highway in Michael’s psychedelic bus. Teal’c is at the wheel and The Byrds are playing on the radio. Sam and Daniel are in the back of the bus, lounging on a pile of cheap cushions and smoking weed. They’re discussing time travel paradoxes. 

“So, in other words, we’re impossible,” Daniel says sadly. 

Sam takes a short puff on the joint. “Yes.” 

They burst into giggles.

His attention attracted, Jack leaves his seat near the front and makes his way toward them. Daniel watches, fascinated, as Jack adjusts his stance to match the sway of the old bus. 

“Whatcha doin’?”

Daniel waves a hand. “Apparently, taking a very wild trip. Because none of this can be real.”

Jack shakes his head. “Carter, gimme that.” 

Reluctantly, Sam hands over the doobie. Jack holds it like a tobacco cigarette and sucks in a deep breath. Sam and Daniel both stare as he coolly releases a stream of smoke through pursed lips. He takes another toke and then crushes the stub. 

Daniel licks his lips. “You know, I love you guys.”

Sam sighs and cuddles beneath his right arm. “You’re high.”

Jack says, “Define love.”

Daniel thinks long and hard. “I want to kiss you.” He squeezes Sam. “And you.”

Jack lowers himself carefully onto the cushions at Daniel’s left and slides down until he’s nearly supine. He puts an arm around Daniel’s waist and steers him onto his lap. He folds down the Nehru collar and kisses the nape of Daniel’s neck. “Kiss like that?”

“Oh, yeah,” Daniel says dreamily. “More.” He reaches for Sam. She fits herself over him and Jack, and Daniel unbuttons her blouse. Surprised to find a bra beneath it, Daniel awkwardly frees one breast from confinement and takes as much of it as he can into his mouth. 

Sam shakes with laughter. Daniel nips her playfully just as Jack begins to nibble along the top of his shoulder. They’re all laughing, and happy, and high in a strange, colorful world that isn’t real. They love each other.

  
**4\. Guilty Pleasure  
**  
They’re slogging their way back to the gate after a disappointing mission. Jack is pissed. Daniel blew the mission; no big guns for the SGC this week. SG-1 was laughed out of the city as a bunch of ignorant buffoons.

Suddenly, the dark skies open up and release a downpour. Jack swears and yells at them all as they struggle to get their tents up. 

When their tent is finally secure, Jack and Daniel squeeze inside. They’re both soaked to the bone. Jack strips down to nothing and rolls out his sleeping bag, so Daniel follows suit. When he begins to root in his pack for a change of clothing, Jack says “Uh-uh.”

“What?”

“You’ll want dry clothes in the morning,” Jack says. He flicks off the lantern.

It’s chilly, but Daniel leaves his clothes in the pack and finds his way to his sleeping bag. He’s searching for the zipper when Jack grabs his wrist.

Jack is still angry. “You know, Hammond’s gonna be even more ticked off than I am.”

Annoyed, Daniel unsuccessfully tries to pull his arm back. “I know that. What do you want, a pound of flesh?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Jack says, his voice cold. “Are you offering?”

“Sure, Jack, wh—"

In an instant, his arm is twisted up and he’s forced to turn onto his belly to prevent a fracture. Jack smacks him on the butt, and it’s no love pat. Daniel yelps. 

“Shut up!” Jack says. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you tonight. You got that?”

Daniel nods, though Jack likely can’t see him. 

Jack releases his wrist and lies beside him silently for the space of a few breaths. “Well, *one* word,” he allows. “Sex. Fucking, to be precise. Air Force dick up your rosy-red ass.”

“Please,” Daniel whispers, before he’s offered any other alternatives. 

He can feel Jack shudder. 

He waits impatiently while Jack paws through his pack looking for “sunscreen.” He uses all the body language available to him to urge Jack into reckless speed. 

“Jesus, Daniel,” Jack says. “Cut it out! Stop inviting people to screw you over. Please. Please stop it.”

Daniel never could follow orders. He gropes for Jack’s hand. “Everyone but you, Jack. I promise.” 

Jack grunts and drops his whole weight on Daniel. “You're gonna regret that, Danny-boy.” 

He doesn't.

  
**5\. Comfort  
**  
The cast of characters varies, but the setting is always the same. Daniel is in ancient Egypt. He’s alone, lying on a pallet in a small stone room. He’s injured and can hardly breathe--it feels as if a stone block were slowly crushing him to death. He struggles to get up, to get away, but he can’t even wiggle a finger. Tears of pain and frustration roll into his hair. 

Someone comes into the room. The first visitor is usually a woman. She strokes his hair and gives him a sip of cool water. He thanks her, and no matter which language he speaks, she understands him. She asks him what is wrong, and he explains that he is dying, that he can’t bear the pressure on his chest anymore. He is about to collapse. 

The visitor summons help, usually from a strong man. The second visitor is sometimes Jack, Teal’c, General Hammond, or Jacob Carter; often, it’s his father. Once, it was Sam. Whoever it is comes in and looks at him with unabashed love. They call him “son” or “Danny.” They pick up the button that is lying on his chest and crush it into powder. 

The weight is lifted, but he is still weak and hurting. A group of Abydonian men and women enter the room. They begin to wash and perfume his body. “Am I dead?” he asks. He wouldn’t mind.

The people crowd in close, each touching and soothing whichever part of Daniel they can reach. The second visitor moves behind him and lifts his head and shoulders so that he can see the faces of the people around him. Daniel leans back into the visitor’s embrace as the touches become more intimate. His arms are lifted and massaged with oil. His feet are washed. The women begin to sing. 

Drugged by the spicy perfume, Daniel nearly drifts asleep. He jerks awake when he recognizes the touch of a familiar hand. 

Now he sees that everyone he has ever loved is in the crowd: Sha’uri, his parents and foster parents, Skaara and Kasuf, Jack, Teal’c, Sam, Janet, old friends and lovers. Everyone. He is naked, weak, and needy, but there is no judgment in their eyes. He’s not embarrassed. They love him. He starts to cry.

He tries to rise under his own power, but he can’t. The men gather round and lift him, like pallbearers without a casket. Once off the pallet, his body floats upward of its own accord. He passes through the cedar-lined ceiling and into the sunstruck day, spiraling ever higher. The sun gleams on his oiled limbs, and he catches fire. He convulses, and his bones burn and crumble into stardust. 

His new body is light and has never known love or grief. He can keep drifting upward or return to earth and start the cycle over again. 

Each time he has the dream, he finds the choice becomes easier.


End file.
